


Decyphering

by K_Hanna_Korossy



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5824234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Hanna_Korossy/pseuds/K_Hanna_Korossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag to "Cypher." Even if Sandburg's not officially Ellison's partner, both are required to go to the department shrink for clearance after Lash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decyphering

First published in _Speak No Evil_ (2003)

 

“Do you know why you’re here today, Detective Ellison?” The doctor’s voice was every bit the shrink stereotype, calm and non-judgmental and rife with false caring.

“Yes.” Jim Ellison answered blandly. “Partner trauma.”

“Well, in brief, yes. We’ve found that when an officer is attacked or injured on the job, sometimes the psychological effect is even greater on their partner than on the officer themself.”

“Blair is not an officer.”

“True. But he is your partner—“

“No, he isn’t.” He’d gone over this same ground already with Simon when his boss had told him he had an appointment with the department shrink, but apparently this guy hadn’t gotten the memo. When were they going to realize he didn’t have or need a partner? And certainly not a civilian kid, no matter how much of a Sentinel expert he was.

The doctor paused. Cleared his throat. Good, let him sweat. Maybe they’d think twice before pulling this on him again. “Mr. Sandburg does work with you, is that correct?”

“Mr. Sandburg follows me around and observes me. It’s part of his research for a doctoral paper on police societies.” He hated that cover story, but what choice did he have? Couldn’t exactly tell the good doctor about freak Sentinels, could he?

“From what Captain Banks has told me, Mr. Sandburg functions in far more than an observer capacity. The captain said he was most helpful in your last few cases, and that Mr. Sandburg has moved in with you.”

Great. Just great. Since when had Simon turned into Blair’s cheerleader? And all Jim needed was for it to get around that he was living with the kid. Talk about rumors…

“Detective Ellison?”

“Blair Sandburg is staying with me temporarily while he finds a place to live, that’s all. And he has offered his advice and experience on cases we’ve been on but hasn’t played an official part in any investigation. That would be against department policy, as I’m sure you’re well aware, Doctor.” Two could play at this game.

The doctor didn’t seem ruffled. “So you are ambivalent about Mr. Sandburg’s well-being,” he translated.

Jim blinked. Where’d the guy get that from? “I didn’t say that, sir. Sandburg is a civilian, one of residents of this city I’m sworn to protect.”

“Nothing more?”

He hesitated, for the first time uncertain of his response. “Well, I do know the kid now. It’s always more personal when you know the victim.”

“I understand. So would you characterize Mr. Sandburg as a friend then?”

Friends? Oh, for… “I haven’t known him long enough for that,” Jim said tightly. “Sandburg’s only been observing for about two months now.”

“All right. So he’s still a relative stranger. Although I hear Mr. Sandburg distinguished himself in his first few days at the department by helping defuse the Kinkaid hostage situation.”

“Sandburg was…there, yes.”

“And helped save the life of a civilian from a sniper.”

“Well, I guess you could call it that.”

“And also helped protect an elderly woman from a gang attack?”

“That was his idea,” Jim interjected. And clenched his jaw, not liking at all the direction this was headed.

“All right. But the point is, it seems to me Mr. Sandburg has done far more than just observe in his short time with the department. It also seems to both me and your captain that the two of you are quite an effective team. Not partners,” he rushed on to say when Jim tensed, ready to interrupt, “just good together. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“He’s made himself useful a few times,” Jim grudgingly admitted.

“Good. So, tell me, what happened with Lash.”

This was more familiar ground. Jim could almost recite the report he’d written. “David Lash was a psychopath, adept at taking over the persona of the people he killed. He met Sandburg while masquerading as a forensic psychologist consulting with us while we were working on a series of drowning murders with the same signature, murders we later were able to tie in with Lash. He chose Sandburg as his next victim, and kidnapped him from my home that evening. We found duck feathers and waste in the water from the lungs of one of Lash’s victims, and that helped us track down his whereabouts to a building in the proximity of a duck pond. We then moved in and rescued Sandburg just as Lash was drugging him in preparation for the kill, and during the take-down, I was forced to shoot and kill Lash in self-defense.”

“Do you feel any guilt about that shooting?”

“None at all, sir.” At least that he could answer truthfully. He’d been in to see the doctor after every on-the-job shooting, and while some of them would always trouble him, not this one, not for a second.

“Do you feel it was your only course of action?”

“Absolutely.”

“All right. What happened afterwards?”

Jim stared at him. “Sir?”

“After you shot Lash. What happened to Mr. Sandburg?”

“We released him—he was chained to a chair—and had him checked by paramedics on-scene, then I took him home so he could get some sleep.”

“When did you do the paperwork?”

Jim frowned. Where was this going? “The following afternoon,” he answered carefully.

“Isn’t that unusual? Don’t you usually do the paperwork as soon as possible after the incident while the memory is fresh?”

Was he hinting at dereliction of duty? Jim pulled himself up and said coldly, “Captain Banks gave me full consent. Sir.”

“Oh, I’m not doubting that, Detective. There’s no question here about regulations or wrong-doing. I’m just asking, isn’t it SOP to do the paperwork immediately after an incident?”

“Unless there are extenuating circumstances, yes.”

“I see. And what were the extenuating circumstances in this case?”

Was this guy really that dumb? “Sandburg needed to get home. He was exhausted, sedated, and traumatized.”

“So you…needed to see to the well-being of the civilian involved, first.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed. “It’s my job.”

“To drive a civilian home and make sure he’s settled?” He hurried on before Jim could answer, not allowing an interruption. “What was Mr. Sandburg’s mental state at that time?”

“I’m not qualified to assess that,” Jim ground out.

“I’m not asking for a professional diagnosis, Detective, just your observations. How did Mr. Sandburg seem to you?”

“Shaken. Upset. Exhausted.”

“Frightened?”

“He had a right to be.”

“To be sure. And your reaction to his condition?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

“Did you help Mr. Sandburg in any way after taking him home?”

“I…made him some tea. Watched some TV with him. Fixed him breakfast the next morning.” Helped him clean up after he consequently threw it up. Woke him up from a nightmare as he took a mid-morning nap on the couch. Held him as he cried. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done at one time or another for another cop on the job.

Not that Blair was a cop, of course. Obviously, he wasn’t.

Jim hadn’t said that.

“Is that all?”

All that he was about to tell. The kid had a right to his privacy. “Yes, sir.”

“Is this your usual procedure with a civlian victim?”

He clenched his teeth again. The guy was determined to make something out of this, and Jim didn’t like it. “No. But most civilian victims aren’t people I know, or my roommates.”

“However temporary.”

“Yeah.”

“I see. Did this…relationship also make you more concerned about Mr. Sandburg during this situation.”

“Not in a way that affected my job.”

“I didn’t ask you that.” The shrink’s kindness was grating.

“Maybe. Like I said, it’s more personal when it’s someone you know.”

“So you did. Were you afraid of losing him?”

“Oh, for pete’s sake—what is it you want, Doc, you want me to say he’s my lover and I’d be crushed if he’d been killed? ‘Cause you’re barking up the wrong tree there.”

“Why are you so angry?”

“Because it’s a dumb question. I like Blair, okay? He’s a smart kid, has some good ideas, and he’s probably too loyal for his own good. That’s it. He’s also got plenty of faults and sometimes he drives me up the wall. So don’t try to make him out to be my partner or my best friend or somebody I can’t live without, okay?”

“Why are you so angry?” The man had calmness down to an art.

“Because…it scared me, all right? He was in my loft, I was responsible for him. I didn’t want anything to happen to him. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The doctor leaned forward. “But something did happen to him, despite your best efforts. So where does that leave you?”            

“Talking to a shrink when I should be out there doing my job.” Jim wasn’t sure who he was mad at anymore, but this was getting far too touchy-feely for him. Had he actually said he was scared? Had it been the truth?

“Fear of loss is nothing to be ashamed of, Detective. All of your colleagues struggle with it in some way or another. As a partnership—or a friendship—grows, one of its obstacles is fear of getting too close and losing the other person. With your military history, I’d say that’s a definite danger for you.”

“I’m fine.” The guy didn’t even know what he was talking about. Didn’t even know about the Sentinel thing, that this whole arrangement was just about Sandburg helping him figure it out. Then it would be over. All Jim was…worried about was it ending before he really had a handle on his senses.

The doctor leaned back, nodding to himself a little. “All right. I think we’re finished then.”

Finally. Jim pushed himself up from the chair and headed straight for the door.

“Oh, Detective?”

He forced himself to stop, turn.

“I’ll be recommending your immediate return to duty, conditional upon your coming back here for a follow-up in a few weeks. Just to see how Mr. Sandburg’s doing.”

He nodded. “Fine.”

“And Detective? One last thought—partners aren’t always official.”

He didn’t grace that with an answer. Clearly the man thought he had all the answers, most of them wrong. Jim turned on his heel and walked out.

Back to duty—good. But the paperwork on his mandatory post-shooting suspension probably wouldn’t clear that day, knowing the bureaucracy as well as he did. Which meant another paid day off. Well, fine, Jim thought, getting into the truck. He could get some more stuff done around the loft, keep an eye on the kid at the same time. Sandburg had bounced back pretty impressively, but he still had his rocky moments and wasn’t eating yet as well as he usually did. Maybe some Chinese that night would tempt him. Or Thai, one of Blair’s favorites, although the spices were a little strong for Jim’s sense of taste. But he could live with it one night.

He threw the truck into reverse, pulled out of the parking space, and turned toward home.

Partners—where’d they get this shrink, anyway? The guy had watched too many buddy cop shows.

 

“How are you feeling today, Mr. Sandburg?”

“Blair—call me Blair. I’m okay, just, uh, a little nervous. I’ve never been to a police psychologist before.”            

The man smiled, a warm smile that immediately made Blair relax. “I’m not really a police psychologist, Blair, I just do some assessments and counseling for the department on the side. I see you’ve had a lot of experience with analysis—this shouldn’t be any different.”

He fidgeted in his chair. “Yeah, well, talking about your childhood isn’t exactly the same as talking about the psycho who kidnapped you and tied you up and wanted to take your place—literally—you know?”  

“True. So, how is it, talking about that?”

“It helps.” Blair licked his lips. “I’ve, uh, been doing a lot of that with Jim—Detective Ellison. Probably driving him crazy—” a quick grin, “—but he’s given me some good advice. Guess there’s something positive about dealing with this kinda stuff everyday.”

“I doubt he deals everyday with the kidnapping of his partner.”

“I’m not his partner.” Man, had he said that fast enough or what?

The doctor’s eyebrow rose. “Oh. I was under the impression you were.”

“Well, uh, we work together. And I try to back him up. But Jim—he’s kind of a loner. I’m surprised he hasn’t kicked me out of the loft yet.” His bark of laughter sounded so fake to him, Blair swallowed.

“Could you tell me more about this living arrangement?”

“Uh, I used to live in this big…warehouse, until it sorta…blew up. Seems there were some drug dealers staying there, too. Larry and I needed a place to stay just for a few days until I found a new place, and Jim had room, so…”

“Larry?”

“Oh, Larry, he’s an ape. I had him on loan for a research project I was conducting on the influence of watching violent movies.”

The doctor didn’t seem all that surprised. “And when was this?”

“That the warehouse blew up? Uh, about a month ago.”

“And you’re still living with Ellison?”

The guy didn’t think…Blair swallowed a smile. Good thing Jim wasn’t there. “Finding a new place on my budget hasn’t been easy and Jim has this extra room—it just worked out.” Which didn’t mean the detective wouldn’t throw him out any day now, but even pretending stability felt nice. Quite a change.

“I see. And how do you work together and ‘back up’ Detective Ellison?”

“Mostly I ride around with him, watch, listen, take notes, call for reinforcements, stuff like that.”

“From what I’ve heard, you’ve done considerably more than that.”

“Yeah, well, just trying to help out, you know? Some of the stuff you see on the street,” he shook his head, “you’d have to be a real cold fish not to want to help.”

“And what is Detective Ellison’s reaction to your helping?”

Blair couldn’t help the grin. “Well, he’s not so crazy about it when I don’t listen to him, but otherwise, I think he likes having someone to boss around.”

The doctor smiled a little. “So it’s Detective Ellison who doesn’t see you as partners, not you.”

Blair examined the weave of the upholstery on the chair’s arm. Wondered what level of detail Jim would have seen in it. “I’m not a partner—I don’t know much about being a cop. I’m trying, but,” he shook his head, “I’m an observer, not an officer.”

“I see. So why do you think Captain Banks wanted you to come see me?”

It was a good question, one Blair himself had tried to answer. “Uh, I guess he wants to make sure it’s not some nutcase out on the street with his men.” His quick grin failed. It seemed to be doing that a lot that afternoon. Even as Jim had driven him over, Blair hadn’t been able to manage a single one even though the detective had tried to loosen him up.

The doctor leaned close. “Tell me what happened after Jim got there and killed Lash.”

Oh, sure, give him something easy. Blair tucked a leg under him. “Well, uh, I was…chained to this dentist’s chair. Lash, he was crazy, he kept saying he’d _be_ me, even had this wig… He tried to make me swallow something. I fought back, but I…I had these chains on… Some of it went down my throat. And then Jim got there and…there was a big fight. There were a coupla times I thought Jim had lost and…” He gulped. Oh, God, this was hard. He would _not_ get sick again, not here. Just breathe, Jim had said. “I heard the gunshots but I didn’t know who was shooting. And then Jim got there and…God, I was so relieved…”

A very kind, “Go on.”

“I don’t know where he found the key, but he got the chains off. I was kinda woozy by then—guess it was the stuff Lash gave me. I couldn’t…stand up, so he kinda got me over his shoulder and took me outside. I…threw up…I don’t remember it all, exactly, just the paramedics and Simon—Captain Banks—asking me questions, and Jim holding me up. He kept telling me I was okay…”

“And then he took you home.”

Blair nodded, blushed at the memory. “Put me to bed—I was pretty out of it. But it was…hard to sleep. I kept seeing Lash in the room. It’s stupid, but—“

“It’s also perfectly normal. The traumatized mind replays the trauma in an effort to make sense of it.”

“Yeah, well, we’re talking 3-D technicolor vision here. Jim got so sick of it, he parked himself in my room and, uh, stayed the night to keep me company.”

“Did it work?”

“Huh? Oh.” Blair’s mind had briefly wandered to the memory of waking several times that night to the sight of the imposing silhouette of Jim Ellison by the door. Talk about making you feel safe. Blair flushed again with embarrassment. “Yeah. Yeah, it helped.”

“That’s good. And how have you been sleeping since then?”

“Uh, better. Still not great, but Jim’s not complaining.” Thank God. He was mortified enough already by the nightmares that still woke him up screaming sometimes. Ellison had never complained about that, even as he groused about Sandburg flushing the toilet or running the dishwasher too late.

“Is there anything you feel you should have done differently then? Something eating at you now?”

That was something else he’d had a lot of time to think about. He switched his right leg out from underneath him for the left. “Called 911 instead of Jim. He didn’t even get my page right away.”

“Do you think it would have helped?”

“To be honest, no,” Blair hedged. Jim had told him the next morning that he’d done everything right, and that meant a great deal to Blair, dispelling most of the nagging what-ifs. Sometimes the bad guy won no matter what you did. But then, he hadn’t this time, had he?

“Then the nightmares will probably pass. It’s just the mind working things through, which is also normal. But that’s why you’re sleeping better now.” The doctor paused, thinking. “Blair…let me ask you something. Why are you observing Jim Ellison?”

His fidgeting suddenly stilled. Simon hadn’t told—no, Blair was pretty sure about that. So it was back to the old “thin blue line” story. “Well, I’m a grad student working on my PhD on police cultures, and I needed some observational experience. Somehow I ended up with Jim.”

The doctor’s forehead creased. “Somehow?”

Blair shrugged, trying for nonchalant. “He was willing, Simon—Captain Banks—okayed it, and I was in.”

“I see. I was just wondering. Detective Ellison doesn’t seem like the kind of officer who would volunteer to be observed.”

Oh, man, had Jim said something to the guy? Blair fought off panic. “Well, uh, he didn’t exactly volunteer…”

“You said he was willing.”

“Willing as in he said okay, reluctantly. I’m still not sure how happy he is having me along for the ride, you know what I mean?” He’d have to sit on his hands soon, as expansive as he was getting with them. “Did he, uh, talk to you about this?”

The doctor smiled. “I’m sure you know about rules of confidentiality, Blair. But please relax—I don’t think you have any cause for worry.”

Great, he looked as nervous as he felt.

The doctor edged closer, getting more personal. “One thing I am concerned about is whether you’re getting as much out of this partnership—experience—as you’re giving to it. It seems to me you help the police department with their cases without payment for your services, spend a great deal of your time riding around with Detective Ellison, and recently risked your life for this research. I’m forced to ask if this is worth it for you, or even safe.”

Calm abruptly descended on his thoughts. The other questions he’d had to think about and a lot of the answers were painful ones. This one was easy. “Believe me, Doctor, I’m getting a lot more out of this than I could ever put into it. Yeah, I had some second thoughts after Lash—I think I’d have to be crazy not to. But it hasn’t changed anything.” Well, no, that wasn’t strictly true. It had given him a profound sense of having someone who would be there if he needed him, even to rescue him from hell. That made the potential dangers seem a lot more manageable and a lot less intimidating. And that was besides the whole Sentinel research goldmine.

But…it wasn’t the sentinel thing that made him feel safe. It was Jim Ellison, the man.

And if he said that, the good doctor really would think there was something kinky going on between them. But it didn’t make it any less true. The last few days had been full of self-doubts and second-guesses, and now that he thought about it, it seemed Jim had picked up on that, too, and was almost as uncomfortable about it as Blair was. But then it had suddenly become simple. He wanted to be where he was, even with the Lashs out there. Maybe especially because of the Lashs out there. He wasn’t doing it alone, and _that_ had made the real difference those last few days, not this official department appointment.

The doctor was nodding, maybe having picked up on that, maybe just knowing a lost cause when he saw it. Naomi had never argued much with Blair when he’d made up his mind, either. And Jim Ellison was going to find out soon, too, just how stubborn Blair could be.

“So…how’d I do?”

The doctor sat straighter. “Frankly, far better than I expected after having read your file. A lot of trained officers couldn’t recover so quickly from an experience like yours. You have a strong spirit, Mr. Sandburg, and a support system I wish all my patients had. It seems to me if you keep using it as you have been, you’ll do just fine. I’ll clear you to return to your observer status, provided you come back to see me if the nightmares continue or if there are any new problems.” He pointed a pen sternly at Blair, reminding him momentarily of Jim.

He was smiling as he stood. “I promise.”

“Good. And Blair? Off the record…neither of you may be ready to call it that yet, but you do have a partner. I’ve seen enough partnerships in the department to know one when I come across it. It can be a real asset.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t feel the need to do more than just nod before turning to go.

Partners? Well, maybe, someday. Not yet, no matter what the nice doctor said. He still got in the way far more than he helped, most glaringly tipping Lash off in the church to their presence. And Jim didn’t really trust him yet, always barking at him to fix the newest sensory problem and then balking at Blair’s solutions. But he had learned Jim’s bark was worse than his bite, at least where those on his side were concerned. And if the last few days were any indication, they were a little more than just on the same side, subject and researcher. But partner? Well, who knew what the future held?

In the meantime, Jim Ellison was waiting for him out in the lobby and they had tickets to a game that evening. It was a start, and Blair was grateful for it.

Partners, just like those old TV shows. Blair grinned. He rather liked the idea.

The End


End file.
